


Social climber. Masochist. Whore.

by shopfront



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/F, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanessa learns how to push back and take Blair down a peg or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social climber. Masochist. Whore.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pirateygoodness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/gifts).



When Blair spots Vanessa for the first time, she wonders if maybe her day is looking up. She rolls a few insults around in her mouth and smirks as she watches Vanessa stroll over, savouring the thought of how many verbal hits she can layer one on top of each other. Being stranded at one of her mother's friends luncheons has left Blair exhausted with boredom, and not even the fact that everyone _else's_ mother got an apparently equally appealing invite has managed to take the edge off - "it's not business Blair, but we still have to make an appearance as a _family_." Retch.

"Blair." Vanessa speaks first as she leans past Blair to liberate a glass of champagne from the tray on the bar, brushing close enough that Blair can smell her shampoo.

"Uh, _excuse me_. I know it's a hard concept for your tiny mind to grasp, but people outside of _Brooklyn_ value their personal space." She stamps on the urge to huff when Vanessa doesn't respond with anything greater than raising her eyebrows and smiling widely as she raises the glass to her lips. It's infuriating, and what's worse is she knows it, and she knows Blair knows she knows it. It makes her want to grab handfuls of Vanessa's infuriatingly sweet smelling hair and _pull_, but no. That would be undignified.

Also, very inappropriate and misguided with a parent in the room. She's had enough problems with parents and problematic perceptions of maturity lately as it is.

Besides, she can see Serena bouncing up and down in the distance over Vanessa's shoulder and she's making the big frantic gestures she always uses when she's trying to encourage Blair to play nice, and Blair has already received the long, boring spiel over breakfast about trying to help Nate and Vanessa patch up their recent little spat. Not that she's inclined to further Nathaniel's torture via exposure to Dan's little troll of a friend, but she's also not in the mood for another Serena lecture today.

Verbal warfare only then, all the better to hide attacks from far away scrutiny.

"Did you come to this luncheon to see Nate? I'm sure he'll be so _thrilled_ you're here," Blair dolls out with a gentle smile that threatens to turn into a real one when the twinkle goes out of Vanessa's eyes and her chin goes up.

"Did you come to this luncheon alone? It's great to see you recovering so well from such a terrible string of romantic failures," Vanessa parries. "It must have been hard, watching how every person you touched imploded around you. Marcus, Chuck-"

"Oh, please. If anyone in this room deserves a roll call of ill advised crushes, it's you. Humphrey. Chuck. Nate. Ringing any bells? Don't you know, it's a boring cliche when the girl from the wrong side of the tracks makes a move on _every_ Constance boy she's ever met. Some might even suspect you of trying to rise up in the world."

"Like you can talk. You probably made more moves than I could ever _dream_ of making on two of them, and you probably did it to try and elevate your way through kindergarten," Vanessa says and sips her champagne again. The sparkle is back, though Blair is loathe to acknowledge she noticed it. "It's a shame really, out of the three of them I suspect Dan could probably do more for your personality."

"Yes, well," Blair sniffs. "_Some_ of us have taste." It also might be true that she'd done more than others might guess to twist the two most eligible of her male peers around her pinky finger before puberty, but she wasn't going to acknowledge such an obvious dig from _Vanessa Abrams_, queen of bad outfits and frizzy hair.

"Come on now, Blair. A little visit across the tracks might do you some good, it could widen your horizons. I think you're overdue for a practical demonstration of how unimportant you are outside of a _very small_ section of the Upper East Side."

"Nobody needs their horizons widened by _Dan Humphrey_-" Blair begins with a mew of distaste.

"Who said I was talking about Dan," Vanessa grins, and shifts to cock out a hip and lean on the wall beside Blair.

"- least of all anyone with the last name Waldorf."

Vanessa just laughs and reaches over to tug sharply on one perfect Waldorf curl. Blair blinks and stills for a moment, and then smartly recovers to huff and smack her hand away. Vanessa just shakes her head and laughs some more.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"I'd consider it a humanitarian act to put you in your place," Vanessa leans over to breathe in Blair's ear.

"Only a masochist would even consider entertaining the appalling example of boho," Blair replies with a wrinkled nose and a disdainful fingertip toying with the edge of Vanessa's latest abomination, "that you are," and if her voice has gone slightly breathy in response it's only because of the disgracefully low quality beverages being served, "as an acceptable choice of partner in _anything_."

Vanessa just hovers, biting her lip and smirking, until against her will Blair trembles towards her just a fraction, and then she nods sharply and steps back. Blair crankily finds herself left feeling stunned and bereft, smelling the flowers and food scattered about the hall instead of the disgustingly cheap yet disturbingly tantalising hint of whatever-that-is in Vanessa's hair that Blair suddenly can't seem to get enough of.

She's just trying to _identify_ what it is so she can mock how cheap and common it is.

"Well then," Vanessa says, sounding and looking all self-satisfied as she walks away. "I can take a hint. See you around, Blair," and she saunters off in Nate's direction - and he's laughing and shaking his head at her as soon as he sees her coming - with one hand perched in her back jeans pocket, which Blair is _not_ staring after a little mournfully.

"What was that?" Serena's voice twinkles in amusement from behind Blair.

"Nothing," she bites out and spins on her heel to find Serena's cheerful little face being all _cheerful_ at her. "Just stupid Vanessa being... stupid."

"Oh." Serena's smile is already grating, so Blair can practically see what's coming next, like when she knocked her favourite antique vase over in the middle of a Chuck rant and time respectfully paused as it's beauty shattered all over the lobby floor. "Well, at least Nate and Vanessa seem to be getting along again! Look how happy they are to see each other!"

"God, Serena, _whatever_."

After that, Blair just can't seem to shake Serena. Everywhere she goes, _there_ she is, and normally that's fine because they're BFFs and this party is utterly blase, except that every time she turns around Serena seems to spot Nate and Vanessa and find herself irresistibly drawn back to cooing over how wonderful a couple they make. _Cooing_. It's making Blair feel nauseous. Eventually she locates a rare bowl of strawberries buried in the midst of the never ending tables of appetisers, and manages to flee the scene in a very dignified manner thank you very much, to find a hiding place from which to send Dorota a 911 text for emergency transport and an excuse to leave.

Of course, consistent with her luck throughout the morning, the only acceptable hiding place she can locate is small but private and comfortable, and it already has a Vanessa lounging on the only couch.

"This is not happening," she sighs. It's been a long day. If it was the sort of thing Blair did, she'd be just about ready to collapse and admit defeat.

"Managed to tear yourself away from Serena, I see," Vanessa smiles, and tucks one leg up to rest her chin on so there's space for another person to sit beside her.

"Managed to tear yourself away from Nate? Or did he get bored again and tell you to leave?"

Vanessa doesn't respond, but she doesn't stop smiling either. Blair briefly considers the door and doing a little more fleeing for the hills, but the dignity loss involved is only acceptable when running from family and loved ones, and Serena has probably already worked herself up into a complete panic about why half of her new favourite golden couple has gone walk about without her boyfriend on her arm, and whether she should go play agony aunt about it.

Standing in front of Vanessa like she's on self-conscious display won't do either, so Blair battles herself down on the issue and perches on the far edge of the couch. The _far_ edge, and then proceeds to check her phone three times in quick succession, hoping for a saviour in the form of Dorota. Sadly, no such luck.

"Nate said you'd probably seek refuge in here."

Blair frowns, but stubbornly refuses to look up from her phone and take the bait. She hears rustling, but she's not watching Vanessa's legs move in her peripheral vision, she's not.

"I've been thinking about our little conversation earlier," and is that Vanessa's arm slung over the back of the chair and warm against Blair's back? "And I'm inclined to agree that you've been a sucker for punishment lately."

Blair's head predictably snaps up at that, only her retort dies a sudden and very surprised death on her tongue when she finds Vanessa right in her face, all shiny eyes and curvy lips and Blair's mouth has gone completely and irredeemably dry. Vanessa has dropped her knee and scooted around to sit sideways and right up close against Blair's side, and there's those fingers tugging at her hair again, and she thinks that Vanessa might still be talking except - let's face it - when has Blair ever cared about what Vanessa is saying? No, instead she's going to watch and wait for that moment when Vanessa moves closer, and then she's not going to complain when she descends on Blair's lips, and if it continues to be a little hazy after that, who could blame Blair? It's been a long time since she's been kissed properly simply for the hell of it, and Vanessa is all soft curves and deliciously demanding grip.

Her hand seems to have snarled itself up in Blair's hair while she wasn't paying attention, and Vanessa is dragging Blair back and down on the couch, forcing her head back like she'd forced Blair's lips open, and bringing lips to sweep gently across Blair's jaw, and teeth roughly down her neck. She tastes sweet but her touch is commanding, and Blair can't help but give herself up to it. She's making shuddery little cries, and Vanessa has a hand between her legs and a knee holding her open, and she's being displayed and ravished on a couch during a high society luncheon by a Brooklyn girl with no class, but Blair _doesn't care_.

It's almost like being in the back of a limo again, but though Chuck certainly knows what buttons to push, Vanessa is reading her reactions a thousand times better. More intimately. She brings her teeth down on Blair's collarbone when she arches against Vanessa's hand, and Blair wants her mouth on her breasts but she still can't bring herself to ask or beg, at least not with words, so she lets herself cry out over and over while she clutches at Vanessa's waist instead.

Vanessa slowly works her way back up Blair's body afterward, soothing teeth marks with lips and tongue, before placing one gentle kiss at the base of Blair's ear and extricating herself from cushions and Blair's clothing. Blair fights the afterglow long enough to prop herself up and give into the need to pull Vanessa back, but she's already halfway to the door already.

"What? _Where are you going?_"

Vanessa pauses at the door, and looks Blair up and down so slowly Blair shivers as Vanessa's eyes linger on her heaving chest, her destroyed hair, and her ripped pantyhose. Her hand clenches compulsively around the doorknob, but she's still all smug smiles. "I have to go find Nate. I'll see you later, Blair," and then she's gone and the door has, thankfully, clicked closed behind her.

Blair collapses back on the couch to pout at the ceiling, and ignores her phone when it starts ringing from under the couch. It's probably just Dorota, and she's not in any fit state to be leaving this room just now anyway. She touches a hand to the tangled mess of her hair, and can't decide whether to grimace or smile.

Later sounds fun.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: bitchy classist comments, whore-calling, gay make-outs.


End file.
